Lions, Tigers and Bears
by Psycho Goddess
Summary: When Grissom’s Valentine’s Date cancels, he calls a long lost friend to save the day. Now it’s just them, dinner…and the mating rituals of lions, tigers and bears. Oh my! [GS] [Reconciling “Butterflied” and “Suckers”]
1. The Proposition

** Title: **Lions, Tigers and Bears

** Summary: ** [Reconciling "Butterflied" and "Suckers"] When Grissom's Valentine's Date cancels, he calls a long lost friend to save the day. Now it's just them, dinner…and the mating rituals of lions, tigers and bears. Oh my! [G/S]

** Pairings: ** Grissom/Sara

** Rating:** PG

** Category:** Humour/Romance

** Archives/Links:** I'd be honoured, and you'd be insane. Just ask!

** Author's Notes: ** This is a three piece story, the final piece being up within two days from now. But don't hold your breath. 

** Disclaimer: **All rights to CSI belong to those lucky SOB's that make their living off of it. 

_ *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*+*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*_

"You're out of milk again Gil," Catherine scolded, her head buried deep in his fridge.

"And you promised to stay out of my fridge."

"Sorry, I was thirsty," she grabbed a can of store brand cola and popped open the lid. "How do you live with it?"

He shrugged. "I pick up anything I need on the way home. It would just go to waste otherwise."

The blonde shook her head in disgust. Men.

Taking a gulp, she looked around Grissom's townhouse. The last time she had been there, a collection of rare butterflies had adorned the window wall. The only trace left was the less worn wallpaper, a darker square of cream. The reason for his removal of such a treasure rose like bile in her throat.

_ Debbie Marlin. _

_ Sara Sidle._

_ Dr. Lurie._

_ Himself._

She couldn't deny that his pain was his own doing- it was plain enough that Sara would have forgiven any stupid action on his part. Grissom walked into his living room, pressing the P_lay_ button on his answering machine. 

_"You have One new message."_

The machine's tone was replaced by a female voice.

_ "Gil, it's Amelia. I'm really sorry, but I can't make the dinner on Saturday. My sister's coming to town, and I can't miss her. I'll call you sometime. Bye."_

The machine clicked to a stop, and Grissom hit the erase button.

"Saturday? As in Valentine's Day Saturday? Did I miss something?" Catherine queried, dumbfounded that even after years of knowing the enigma referred to as Grissom he could still surprise her.

"It wasn't a big deal. I just had tickets to a lecture fundraiser."

_Not a big deal, my ass, _she thought. Grissom may not date often, but he didn't date casually either. His face looked older, more lined. 

"Don't you dare start moping. You aren't the only one going solo. And I can think of a few ways to dispose of your extra ticket." 

He grinned at her.

"I don't suppose you'll come with me?"

"Not a chance. Lindsey and I are having a Girl's Night."

"I know you're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting."

"Tall. Brunette. Seems to think you hate her." 

Catherine ticked each criterion off on a finger.

"It would be unprofessional. Unethical," he argued.

"And asking me wasn't?"

He grimaced. 

"Yes…no...I…different…"

As they talked, Grissom moved into his bedroom, grabbing a book off his shelf.

"One sentence at a time there Shakespeare," Catherine cajoled. "Just phone her. The worst that can happen is she stops following you around with her eyes- As if we don't notice. And at best, you two manage to have a civil conversation- you were friends once, as I recall."

Grissom shook his head.

"Different time, different place," he disputed, handing her the book he had picked up. With what he thought was under his breath, he added, "Different people."

Catherine glanced at the book in her hands. It was well below Grissom's reading level, and she didn't ask how he came into a copy of A Child's View of Insects.

She grabbed her bag from the back of his couch and headed for the door.

"Lindsey will love this. Or as much as she can love a school assignment with creepie crawlies."

"Mildly tolerate?" he suggested.

"At best," Catherine granted. How that man could be so in tune with others at times and so out of touch with reality at others never failed to amaze her. She opened the door, saying her goodbyes. The last thing he heard before the quiet click of a lock sliding into place was two words with so many meanings.

"Phone her."

Sara was probably asleep right now. Or not at home. Phoning would just cause problems, confusion. Opening the proverbial can of worms to all sorts of messes. And wouldn't it be presumptuous to assume she had nothing to do on Valentine's of all days? Especially one that fell on a Saturday? 

How the receiver came to be cradled in his hand was a question he did not wish to pursue. It rang three times on the other end, then her familiar voice.

"Sidle."

"Sara, it's Grissom. I know this is short notice, but I have an extra lecture ticket for Saturday night, before work…"

……

Criticism always welcome. 


	2. The Date

** Title: **Lions, Tigers and Bears

** Summary: ** [Reconciling "Butterflied" and "Suckers"] When Grissom's Valentine's Date cancels, he calls a long lost friend to save the day. Now it's just them, dinner…and the mating rituals of lions, tigers and bears. Oh my! [G/S]

** Pairings: ** Grissom/Sara

** Rating:** PG

** Category:** Humour/Romance

** Archives/Links:** I'd be honoured, and you'd be insane. Just ask!

** Author's Notes: ** Sorry this update took so long, I have a terrible cold. Thanks to all the kind reviews, there were some very nice comments. **:-)** I'm glad you're all enjoying my twisted little mind. This chapter features "The Date", so my apologies. Or apopollylogies.

** Disclaimer: **All rights to CSI belong to those lucky SOB's that make their living off of it. 

Now on with the story!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx*+~-*-~+*xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sara met him outside the auditorium, a truly breath taking sight. He recognized the dress as one she had for court, but shedding the jacket paired with strappy heeled sandals gave a new look. An incredibly more attractive look.

When she spotted him, a grin split her face. For the moment, they could have been anywhere. In the lab, in a restaurant…on the moon, as far as he was concerned.

"H-Hi," she said, stumbling over the simple word. She tugged at the hem of her dress nervously, and he noticed her hands shook ever so slightly.

"For you," he said, offering her a small box. "It being Valentine's and all, I thought you'd like it. I thought about flowers, but they're so…"

"Superfluous?" she suggested, grinning. More of her smiling-represses-the-gag-reflex grin then a relaxed beam, but he was willing to take what he could get at this point.

She pulled at the bow, opening the lid. 

"Cute. Very Grissom-esque," she quipped, extracting her gift from its box. 

"Hardly. _My_ models are anatomically correct."

"Somehow I don't doubt it," she grumbled good-naturedly. "Of course you gotta stick me with the ladybug with heart-shaped spots."

"People tend to overdo Valentine's Day," he said dismissively.

"Yeah," she agreed quietly, then perked up. "So, what's the topic of tonight's symposium?"

"Wondering what dragged me out of my house?"

_No_, she thought. _I was wondering what was interesting enough that you could stand my presence for more then thirty seconds._

"Yeah."

"_The Mating Rituals of Lions, Tigers and Bears_. It's about human intervention in the procreation of endangered species."

She laughed, significantly more at ease then she had been a few moments earlier.

"We should head in. Make sure we have dinner before the speaker starts."

She nodded, lost in her own thoughts. She was not conscious of reaching for the arm he offered, but reach for it she did.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"It's nice," Sara said, taking in the décor. "A little overkill on the pink theme, but nice."

'A little' was quite a generous estimate.

"The lights go down in half an hour. Hopefully our eyes will survive the assault until then. And if all else fails, I have an extra pair of sunglasses in the car," Grissom dryly remarked.

He spotted a table near the back of the room and directed her towards it. She took a seat gratefully, silently thanking whatever higher power there was he didn't try to pull out the chair for her.

He sat across from her, and they studied one another for a minute. The silence was not awkward, but a heavy hush held power over them all the same.

A young woman came to the table, already looking a bit frazzled. 

"Chicken or bass?" she asked bluntly. 

Oddly enough, the attitude made Sara more comfortable. It wasn't any day she went out to dinner with _The_ Gil Grissom. The waitress's grating voice reminded her that she was there, sitting in an over-decorated hotel restaurant waiting for Dr. Phyllis Walker to take the stage.

Grissom motioned the waitress closer, and then discreetly asked for a vegetarian plate. The absurdity was there was no vegetarian plate, and he looked guilty.

"Gris, it's fine. I'll have the bass. There's a big difference between eating fish once and cleaning up raw hamburger. "

She smiled in an attempt to reassure him, but he didn't look satisfied. 

"I'll take the bass too. Thanks," he said.

"And for beverages?"

"Coffee." 

He looked at Sara, who nodded.

"For both of us."

The waitress left.

"Hey, Grissom. Just so you know……… I had fun tonight."

"You've been here less then ten minutes," he noted.

"Yeah, but when we get called in early I'll probably forget," she chuckled. "By the way, how is it Night Shift isn't scheduled until 9:30 tonight?"

"Day shift's covering it."

"I know. Why?"

"Eckley needed my vote for the new policy. I told him he could return the favour."

She looked surprised. "You sold your morals for two hours off work?"

"I was voting in favour to begin with. Eckley doesn't need to know that though."

She gave a disbelieving snort. 

"Good job Mr. Politico."

The couple at the neighbouring table glared at them, and Sara laughed harder.

"Must not like laughter interrupting their classy animal sex seminar," she whispered.

_God she felt giddy._

The strong smell of coffee aroused her, and she took the offered cup appreciatively. The liquid was hot and strong, and she took several gulps before putting it down.

"I saw an interesting program this afternoon. Right up your alley. Kidnapping/murder solved by a tarantula."

"Jenny Munroe, 16. Disappeared in late March of '85. From New Mexico…Naya, I think. Found her body in Michigan."

"You're familiar with the case."

"No."

She wasn't sure if he was joking or refusing to discuss the situation, and she didn't care to find out. She cast about her mind for a change of topic, and hit upon one.

_Who taught you to sign?_ She asked with her fingers.

He looked surprised at her display.

"When-" _No_, he reasoned. _You know perfectly well when. Right after you snapped at her about understanding, over the Clemonds case. You express one iota of interest in a topic and she jumps to learn more. Whether it's the need to impress or hatred of someone having the one up on her was the only real question._

Instead, he found himself replying.

_My mother. _

She nodded. He launched into an explanation with his hands, relishing a shared secret. She mimicked his hand motions unintentionally, using them to help decipher his meaning. She finally held up her hands in defeat.

"I give. I'm not that fluent yet."

He explained in words then, and it proved the perfect jumping point to the conversation. The chatted continuously, pausing only briefly when dinner arrived. They discussed their parents –albeit briefly, as neither had much to say-, then some old memories neither had revisited in years. Around the time she imitated a monkey – a performance he knew several people would pay to see- the constraints of normalcy were gone.

They fell quiet when the houselights dimmed, both equally and separately engrossed by the speaker. When the houselights rose for desserts to be ordered, they both blinked in surprise.

"Truly fascinating," she said.

"Absolutely," he said.

Their waitress from earlier returned, looking more worn then before. She handed them a dessert menu – why they only had two main courses and about a dozen desserts was beyond Sara- and they quickly conferred.

"What'll it be?"

"Is there even that big a difference between dark and milk chocolate brownie sundaes?" Sara asked, incredulous that the choice existed.

"Milk chocolate is for kids. Dark chocolate is for lovers," Grissom explained. 

"I know, I know. Dark chocolate has a higher percentage of cocoa…which means more phenyl ethylamine. Mimics the sensation of being in love. You have to love those chemicals."

"Must you be so scientific?"

"Yep," she taunted happily.

The waitress tapped her pencil against her pad impatiently. Sara and Grissom stared at one another, both daring the other to go first. Sara finally folded.

"A brownie sundae…" she paused for effect. "Dark chocolate."

She felt a surge of guilty pleasure at the look of horror on Grissom's face. He didn't say anything, just motioned that he'd have the same. The waitress left, rolling her eyes.

"Care to tell me something?"

She meant to reply with another embarrassing suggestion, but she noticed a strange look in his eyes. _Too fast_.

"I couldn't think of anything more appropriate for a couple of old friends to eat while they listened to a presentation on panda procreation," she smirked.

_Old friends_. Right.

He would have pursued that thought, but the lights dimmed for the second part of the lecture.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Second intermission came at quarter after eight, and they decided to leave then.

"Don't want to show up on time," Sara explained. "And certainly not dressed like this. I'd never live it down."

"Can't see why you'd want to," he mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing. Let's go."

He walked her to her vehicle, and they lingered there for a moment. 

"Thanks for inviting me. Especially today of all days. Otherwise I'd be sitting at home feeling sorry for myself. I mean…the only reason this holiday exists is so card companies can make singles feel bad. It makes their chocolate stocks move in leaps and bounds."

He half-smiled. "Any time."

He reached to brush a tendril of hair from her face and she jumped. 

"I'll…I'll see you at work."

The meaning of her words hung in the air.

_I'll see you at work boss. And don't mention…this…because there's no way we could keep up the friends façade. Now is not the time for middle ground._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Criticism most welcome. **:-)**


	3. The Fallout

** Title: **Lions, Tigers and Bears

** Summary: ** [Reconciling "Butterflied" and "Suckers"] When Grissom's Valentine's Date cancels, he calls a long lost friend to save the day. Now it's just them, dinner...and the mating rituals of lions, tigers and bears. Oh my! [G/S]

** Pairings: ** Grissom/Sara

** Rating:** PG

** Category:** Humour/Romance

** Archives/Links:** I'd be honoured, and you'd be insane. Just ask!

** Author's Notes: ** Thanks to all the readers who have taken the time to review. You're all dears. And as for the chocolate – one of those things you pick up somewhere, and then when I came across the chemical's name in my Biology textbook…I really couldn't let it go. **:-)**

And I hate to ask this of my readers, but a short epilogue has been mentally "written", but I'm not sure if it's necessary. Any opinions about it would be welcome.

** Disclaimer: **All rights to CSI belong to those lucky SOB's that make their living off of it. 

_ *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*+*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*_

Sara rushed into the break room with only minutes to spare, much to the surprise of her coworkers. 

"Miss Sidle!" Nick exclaimed in mock surprise. "You're late!"

"I'm not _late_," she snapped. "I just didn't show up before you did. My mother phoned. Wanted to see how I was spending Valentine's Day."

"She thinks you need a relationship, huh?"

"She sent me a good luck charm to carry around with me tonight," Sara explained, rolling her eyes. "I believe her exact words were 'Sara, hun, you need to get laid."

The trio snorted.

"Not while you're on my time."

Sara jumped and faced Grissom. 

"So does that mean I can bring Greg to the layout room after shift?" she teased.

"As long as you don't mess up the evidence."

Catherine watched Sara's face closely, expecting her to be angry. Instead, a smile slipped onto her face and Catherine breathed a sigh of relief. Grissom must have called her.

"Nick, Sara- you have a couple of home invasions on the west end. About two blocks apart."

If it was possible, her smile grew as she snapped up the paper he offered.

"Awesome," she said, quickly glancing over the details. She folded the paper and prepared to separate the details of the two cases. "Nick, you want the one on Girardi or Blake?"

"Doesn't matter, I'll still be done processing before you are," he challenged.

She laughed loudly. "You are _soo_-"

Grissom's voice cut her off.

"Process both scenes together."

She couldn't remember the last time his voice had been so firm, which was saying a great deal considering the events of the last few months. She was almost tempted to dare his authority, to tease him into pacification. She had done it before, but something told her today was not the day. 

"Fine. I'm going to go get a jacket. Meet you there Nicky?"

"Sure thing," he confirmed, flashing a grin.

Sara left, and Nick stared at his boss.

"Grissom, man, what did you _do_ to her?"

"What you're talking about?"

"Don't even insult my intelligence Gris. She phoned me today…to_ congratulate me _on the promotion_._"

"So?" He gave the younger man a blank stare. "Sara's a professional. What did you expect her to do? Throw a book across the room?"

"She-" Nick paused to find the right word. "She just _bounced_ out of this room. Now you either apologized for whatever stupid thing you did to make her pissy with you in the first place or she got laid."

"Well I didn't apologize."

Nick blushed slightly at the revelation. He hadn't been aware of anyone in Sara's life, and while he was happy for her, her sex life was not something he was particularly interested in. In fact, it reminded him of the time he walked in on his oldest sister and her boyfriend his first Christmas in university.

As Grissom handed out assignments – an assault for Catherine and a smash 'n grab for Warrick- the wheels of Nick's mind were turning. Who was it?

~::+::~

"So, did it work?"

Sara glanced at her partner.

"What?"

"The charm your mother sent you. I may have to borrow it if it did."

She raised one eyebrow.

"Who says I'd let you?"

"Awww, come on Sara. I could _really_ use it," he tried making a puppy face, but found he couldn't stop laughing long enough. She lightly punched his arm and headed towards the first house.

Nodding to the officer on duty, she slipped into the house and set to work.

"So, who was it?"

"I am not even going to acknowledge that question."

"Do you have it with you?"

"Yes."

"Can I see it?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Sara sighed, pulling something out of her pocket. She tossed it to him, still intent on the crime scene. Nick looked at it. A small ladybug plushie, maybe two inches long. The traditional black spots were replaced by distressing pink hearts, and he was pretty sure the real insects weren't so cutesy. 

"Doesn't look like a charm to me."

"It's the sentiment behind it."

"As long as it works, right?"

"I never said it worked," she grumbled. Her cheeks were flushed- this really had gone too far. Her mother _had_ called. She had even said what Sara had told the others. Why she had mentioned the "charm" was beyond her- probably just to explain away its presence.

Sighing in frustration, she turned to the occupants of the house. The youngest child was about eleven, and Sara was not looking forward to talking to them. She hated home invasions.

_ The difference between burglary and home invasion -- infliction of terror._

Nick caught her glance, and must have read something in her eyes.

"I'll go talk to the family," he said quietly, handing her back the ladybug.

She smiled. "Thanks Nicky."

As he made his way towards the family, he heard the father's voice rising in anger.

"This is ridiculous! Three women attacked in the last month, and now my intruders come into my house _ while I'm here_?!?"

"Well, at least I know why Grissom made Sara and I stick together," he said to himself. His boss's comment had struck him as odd at the time, though he hadn't given it much thought since. Another Grissom quirk.

Nick interviewed the witnesses, taking a few fibre samples and fingernail clippings. By the time he was done Sara had finished the living room, and they moved to the next house. 

~::+::~

Shannon Tully was a 21 year old waitress. She was also bitter and eager to get to work before her boss fired her. Sara rolled her eyes and motioned to Nick to deal with her. 

A preliminary assessment of the scene showed a lot more to process, and Sara set to work quickly. Nick joined her in a few minutes, and they verbally sparred as they collected samples.

"You know, you never did tell me who it was."

"Nobody."

"Someone at the lab?"

"No."

"You're a terrible liar Sidle. You're going about seventeen shades of red."

"Like you could tell in this light."

"Who is it?"

"Nobody."

"Greg?"

"No."

"Warrick?"

"No!"

"Archie?"

"NO!"

She began to giggle uncontrollably.

"You do realize the absurdity of this scenario, don't you?"

"You're going to tell me who it is, or else."

She stopped laughing suddenly. 

"I think I got blood," she said.

"Makes sense. Shannon said she thinks she hit one of the guys with a candlestick…" he paused, peering under the couch. He came up, producing the piece with a flourish. "And here it is."

"Good."

"So, are you going to tell me who it is?"

"No."

That woman was about to see how stubborn Nick Stokes could be.

~::+::~

Grissom heard a knock at his door and looked up from the pile of paperwork he had been avoiding. 

"Hey. Do you mind if I eat in here?" Sara inquired.

"No. Take a seat," he offered, motioning the file-covered chairs before he turned back to his work. She pulled the folders off one and sat down.

"Thanks."

"What's wrong with the break room?" he asked, not looking up from the report he had in his hand.

"Nick and I are taking a lunch break. It looks like a bunch of teenagers got high and thought it would be funny. Either way, we really can't get anywhere until Greg gets back to us with the DNA. We have a detective checking emergency rooms…one of the guys got creamed in the head with a candlestick."

"Good. Why are you here?"

"If I sit in a room with dear ol' Nicky I'm going to punch his lights out."

He looked concerned. 

"Why?"

"He has spent the last five- count them, _five_- hours trying to guess who I slept with. After the third time he suggested Hodges, I had to get away."

The situation would have been funny if it wasn't so desperate. Grissom chuckled, and Sara was tempted to punch _him_.

"It's not funny."

Grissom looked sorry. It was a hard image to reconcile with her mind.

"You're right, it's not. I'll talk to him."

"Don't bother."

"I'm the boss, remember? A sexual harassment suit wouldn't look good for the department, and I don't want to lose my CSIs over something so stupid."

She glared at him, shocked he could think so little of her. Then she saw a gentle grin that matched the sparkle in his eyes, and she laughed.

"Look, if it gets out of hand, I have his sister's phone number. He talks and Miss Annabelle Stokes gets a phone call."

"That's truly evil," he teased, knowing full well that the last person Nick wanted to cross would be his sister.

"Thank you."

They lapsed into silence; the only sounds the shuffle of papers, the clacking of keys and the sound of her fork scraping against the cardboard takeout container. Grissom felt his eyes drawn to her, Nick's words from earlier still fresh in his mind.

"What?" she asked, her fork halfway between her food and her mouth. Amusement had settled in the corners of her mouth.

"You haven't smiled for a long time."

"I smile."

"Not like this."

She opened her mouth to demand an explanation, but found she didn't know what to ask. 

"It's a good thing." He assured her. "You're enthusiastic about your work again. You've been…worn out lately. Close to burn out."

"That's ridiculous."

"It's been fumes and luck for the last three months Sara. You should have been forced into a vacation. I've told you before, and I meant it; the lab needs you."

Those words had hurt her then, drove home how he saw her; now they were a balm. 

_It helps to have a friend_, she wanted to tell him. It wouldn't have done any good though, and confused him. He wouldn't understand. Had someone asked a week ago, he probably would have said they were friends, despite not speaking. He was funny like that. She stuck her fork in her mouth and chewed.

He had turned back to the computer, and the silence came again. Both were absorbed in the respective tasks, and that was fine by them. Her beeper went off, and she looked.

"There are my results. I'll see you later," she said, throwing her empty container into the garbage as she left. She stopped at the door and grinned at him. "Oh, and Grissom—quit playing solitaire and get back to work."

~::+::~

Shift was over, and Grissom finally finished filing reports he had been meaning to for months.

"Grissom. We're going for breakfast. You up for it?" Warrick asked.

"Sure."

"Okay. Same place as always. Meet you there."

Catherine was –as always- the first one present. She had grabbed a booth near the back, and waved the others over as they arrived. Sara was the last to arrive, and the others had ordered. She grabbed a chair and pulled it up.

"Hey Greggo," she greeted the lab technician. "First time?"

"That Cath here will admit to," he confirmed, winking.

"Just make sure the boys here don't tamper with your food," Sara stage whispered to him.

"Spoil the fun, why don't you?" Warrick frowned.

Greg laughed it off, but when the food was up a minute later he jumped to get it. Nick and Warrick went with him, coming back with six plates.

"We ordered for you," Nick explained to Sara, who had taken over his seat beside Grissom. 

"Thanks Nicky," she grinned, looking over her plate. She nearly choked.

"What?"

Sara glared at Grissom, and his mouth quirked slightly before he regained composure. 

"Brownies for breakfast?"

…………………………

~FINI~


End file.
